


This Too Is The Game

by PanBoleyn



Series: Dragons in the Reeds [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, House Blackfyre, House Brightflame, House Targaryen, Semi-WOIAF Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2019-03-07 23:08:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13445352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PanBoleyn/pseuds/PanBoleyn
Summary: While the Targaryens continue to rule and the Blackfyres try and fail to unseat them, in Lorath a family of dragons both red and black comes to be, watching and waiting for their chance.





	This Too Is The Game

**Author's Note:**

> This is a rewrite of my story Dragons on the Cliffside, covering the history of House D'Altari from my Iron and Silk series. This reboot is to bring the timeline closer to canon as established by The World of Ice and Fire. Though, as you will notice from the tags and certain details in the fic, this verse is now officially only semi-compliant with that canon. I began developing it before we had the more detailed timeframe given to us by the book, and I was too far in my plotting to change it entirely.

Daemon wasn't the only dreamer in the family. As such, Rhaenyra is unsurprised when word comes that her brother-husband King Haegon is dead.She dreamed of him dead, after all, from the night of their wedding. It does surprise her that he was murdered treacherously, after laying down his sword, by the Usurper’s grandson Aerion.

 

(She met Aerion once, when she and Daemon were in Lys just before Daemon left, though he took them for Lyseni. He had been vain and vicious, even at a distance. Even so, she and Daemon had agreed he was a beautiful man, although her own preferences are as much for the ladies as Daemon’s were not. Pity there'd been nothing else redeeming about him.)

 

Her favorite brother is dead because _dear_ Uncle Aegor refused to either support or stop him in his reckless attempt at the throne with that thrice-cursed Peake. The brother she wed is gone because the battle plan was insufficient. Her father and the twins she hardly remembers are dead, though that is all Bloodraven’s doing. Rhaenyra is now the second Dowager Queen of the Blackfyre line, and Calla says she must prepare little Daemon for his coronation.

 

“Aegor would expect it,” she says, eyes almost feverish with intensity. Calla is as obsessed as her husband, but then, she is the eldest child, the one who remembers Father and the twins most clearly. She talks of Father's coronation, of the makeshift capital in the Reach he would have turned into a keep for a younger prince, like Summerhall or the keep originally granted to Father by Daeron the Usurper.

 

“Aegor is going to freeze his balls off on the Wall,” Rhaenyra says, dodging when Calla tries to slap her for the comment. “As such, I do not care what he would want, and my boys are just boys. They will remain just boys until I say otherwise.”

 

It works, even after Aegor comes back - because of course he does, he and Bloodraven feud and survive while Targaryens and Blackfyres fall in their wake - in large part because Aenys backs her. Next to Daemon, she has always been closest to this brother, and he supports her now. Because of him, she is able to settle in a manse in Lys, where she and her children blend in, where Daemon and Baelon can grow up in peace. Her son may take up his father’s crown in time, but Rhaenyra does not trust her uncle to bring him safely to power. And he cannot object when she and Aenys marry, because he no longer has a right. Things are finally settled again.

 

Until the day Aenys arrives with an attendant only weeks after she gives birth to their daughter, Jacaera. The newcomer is a tall young man who wears the badge of House Arryn, except the colors are reversed to denote a bastard. Ordering his new friend to remain outside, Aenys tells her that he means to put himself forward as King of Westeros at the Great Council formed to decide who Maekar Targaryen’s successor will be. “And I have a surprising ally,” he tells her, all mischief.

 

“Who could you possibly have?”

 

“Daenora Targaryen. Only surviving child of Rhaegel, widow of Aerion, mother to his son - who the rumor says will be dismissed out of hand for being a small boy and son of a vicious madman. Her mother was an Arryn, the man with me is a cousin called Merick Seastone, her messenger. Look!”

 

He hands her a letter, in which Daenora Targaryen makes it clear that she believes her son by Aerion will be put aside regardless. ‘I would rather see one son of mine displaced by another of my children, if he must be denied a crown. Come and make your claim, and say you will marry me and make the two dragons one again. Your sister and I shall be your queens, our heirs will mingle our lines forevermore.’

 

“Once we're wed, your Daemon can be Prince of Blackfyre Hall, we'll rebuild it, her Balerion is to have Summerhall. You can all have the royalty you deserve. Our little Jacaera could be Queen one day, if my eldest boy is by Daenora, if not then our son will be King, how do you like that idea?”

 

“Aegor will write us all off as traitors and crown Lucerys.” Their second-youngest brother is a fool for glory; he and even-younger Gaemon will never leave the uncle they practically worship.

 

“Let him try. With the black dragon wedded to the red, what support will he have?”

 

“Your stepson-to-be could be a threat.”

 

“I'll deal with that when it comes to it.”

 

Rhaenyra considers him. She ought to point out that he has no claim, her sons are ahead of him. But in truth, while she would like to see Daemon crowned, his brother beside him as his most faithful ally, the idea of all three of her children as secure if uncrowned members of the royal family is compelling. To be a queen, if only a co-queen, and for her and her children to be beyond the reach of Aegor and Calla forevermore is the best outcome she has seen for her life since Daemon died. And Aenys is sensible, bookish and clever but still able to acquit himself well in a fight. He will make a good king, if these nobles are wise enough to see it. “I won't do it without your blessing, my queen,” he assures her, as solemn as the boy who had once sworn to be her knight.

 

(He would have been her knight, Daemon her king, and in truth Haegon had despised all three of them, and Rhaenyra has never really grieved his loss, only resented her uncle for allowing it.)

 

Rhaenyra smiles, kissing his forehead. “Go with my blessing. Who knows, perhaps we'll both gain a wife out of this.”

 

By the time she dreams of a dragon mobbed by white ravens, it is far too late.

 

<><><>

 

Daenora sees the head only once, after Bloodraven presents it to the lords. He puts it on a spike, then, and Daenora forces herself to go see it, Balerion in her arms. He is a sturdy boy now, near five years old, with a head of dark hair, one streak of silver-gold in it, like Valarr’s or her own. Daenora knows Aerion would have raged to see that their son’s hair is almost all the rich brown of the Arryns. _Common hair_ , he'd snarled on their wedding night, grabbing a fistful of her hair and twisting it until she'd cried out, as he took her from behind. _They should have given me Aelora._

 

Thank the gods, her boy has her hair and eyes the same shade of purple as hers. He does not remind her of the monster who sired him at all.

 

She had hoped Aenys Blackfyre might be kinder as a husband, and yet all she did was tempt him to his doom. Bloodraven cannot know she was involved; if he did she would be locked up or dead. But Daenora knows, and she looks up at those dead eyes with her guilt like to choke her.

 

Without Aenys, of course they choose Aegon, her half-peasant cousin with his wife who prays to trees. But that is unfair; Aegon is one of the best of them, all good intentions and a drive to see them through, and Betha is clever and passionate, but kind. They are both kind, and they offer her Summerhall for her Balerion. Just as she'd demanded of Aenys.

 

But she sees how Betha’s kin watch her, and Lord Baratheon too when it is agreed that Aegon’s heir, Duncan, will marry his precious only daughter, Argella. He wonders if his daughter will truly be Queen, or if Duncan will be overthrown by his cousin with the better claim. The Blackwoods would have lost prominence with Bloodraven’s fall if not for the good luck of Aegon’s love match, and they are wary of losing it again should her boy rise. They fear that she will reach out to her Arryn kin for support, to Daella who is now Lady of Starfall and does not approve of her brother being raised above their nephew.

 

Aegon swore her son would be safe. He punished Bloodraven for murdering Aenys, so she knows he is sincere. But punishment does not undo murder, does it?

 

She does turn to her kin for help, in the end, but not to press Balerion’s claim. Ser Merick Seastone is her cousin, trueborn son of her mother’s bastard brother, her sworn shield since she came of age. He was her messenger to Aenys, and the two of them together had humored Aerion in his mad rambles, subtly goading him into his fatal choice of drink. She trusts him implicitly, and his kin is Essosi, his cousin head of a Lorathi merchant house. As the Free Cities go, Lorath is poor, but Jaqen d’Larik does well for himself even so.

 

Her cousin Alys is getting married. It's a perfect excuse to visit the Eyrie, and Aegon is trusting enough to let her take Balerion. From there, it's easy enough to ride for Gulltown once they've left, and easy to board a ship for Lorath. They can be safe there, while they figure out what to do next. On the ship, Merick suggests she take the name d’Altari - altari means flame in the old language of Lorath, and it is common for those coming to the city to take Lorathi names. She will have to be blessed in it by their local goddess, but that's acceptable.

 

And so, Daenora Targaryen becomes Anora d’Altari, her son Rion. Until the day Merick comes back from a trading journey to Tyrosh to say that he's brought a friend - Rhaenyra Blackfyre and her daughter.

 

<><><>

 

Aegor takes her sons. Rhaenyra screams and rages, even slashes her uncle’s face with a dagger left her by Daemon. But his men grab her and hold her as he has her sons’ things packed and takes them away. She is allowed to keep Jacaera but not alone.

 

“You did this to yourself with your ungrateful, defiant behavior,” Calla informs her coldly. “Honestly, Rhaenyra. How could you keep your sons from their destiny?”

 

“I want my children to live. Your husband gets his kings killed.”

 

“You hated Haegon.”

 

“More true to say he hated me, but that isn't the point. He couldn't keep Haegon alive, he let Daemon go off on that suicide mission -”

 

Calla scoffs. “Daemon and Aenys got what they deserved.”

 

Rhaenyra backhands her, and Calla is not quick enough to dodge it. Rhaenyra’s rings leave little cuts on her sister’s cheek. It is some tiny bit of satisfaction. Calla lunges forward to grab her wrists, but she has always been a well-trained lady, while Rhaenyra used to dress as a boy and venture out with her brothers. She slams a knee into her sister’s stomach and twists free of her grip. “You will pay, understand? You will regret stealing my sons. Aegor will _never_ seat a king on the Iron Throne.”

 

And it is that vow she dwells on, when she begins to dream of a red dragon mating with a black. Only now, with Haegon’s boys taken and Aenys’ daughter a babe in arms, does she dream such things. What does it mean?

 

They take her from Lys to a guarded manse in Tyrosh, but as a year goes by, then two, Calla grows careless. Aegor brings Daemon and Baelon to see her but they are sullen, having taken Aegor’s word that she wanted to keep them from inheriting. They remind her of Haegon, as if they have nothing of her in them. As if he and Aegor have their payback, though only their uncle yet lives. Rhaenyra forces herself to let go of her boys - she has lost them now, she knows.

 

She has only Jacaera, her little black dragonet. But who is the red for her to join with? Rhaenyra has no answers until one day at the bazaar. As Calla grows less watchful, she has more freedom, and so she is out alone to shop. She knows that tall merchant, doesn't she? “Merick Seastone,” she calls, and he turns to look at her in shock.

 

“Princess Rhaenyra,” Ser Merick says, and there is the oddest look in his blue eyes. “How have you come to Tyrosh?”

 

“My uncle became aware of my role in Aenys’ attempt at the crown, and he used it as an excuse to take my sons from me. I live under my sister’s eye, with my daughter by Aenys. What has brought you back to the Free Cities?”

 

“After Prince Aenys was killed, my cousin Daenora thought it best to flee with her son, before someone killed him too. We did not suspect the new king, but those around him cannot necessarily be trusted.”

 

“They say Aegon the Fortunate is half a peasant.”

 

“Aye, and he and the maester were by far the best of Maekar’s children for not being raised as proper royals, though Daeron was harmless enough, just _useless_ as well. He had dragon dreams, and turned to drink because he could not bear them. They gave his little daughter to the Faith, the poor child is simple.”

 

Rhaenyra can see why someone might turn to anything that could dull the dragon dreams. Had she not had Daemon to help her through the worst of them as a child, until she had grown accustomed, she might well have done the same. Still, that is not the most important thing Merick has told her. “Daenora is here, in Tyrosh?”

 

“No, she is in Lorath. My mother’s kin live there, and it was the safest place to take her, where I had connections to protect us.”

 

“I see… and does she still cherish the throne for Balerion?”

 

“We find it unlikely that he will ever have the opportunity, but she has not forgotten that the throne is rightfully his by her branch of the family’s line of succession.”

 

Rhaenyra approves of that diplomatic phrasing. Balerion is the rightful heir of Daeron’s direct line - whether Daeron ever had any rights to begin with isn’t the point, and anyway he was crowned and anointed king which conveys a certain right on its own. Or so she has read, and it is one of the reasons why Aegor has always insisted on crowning each successive Blackfyre he declares king. “My daughter remains in my possession. It is true that she is Aenys’ child, not Haegon’s, and so not the heiress of a crowned king. But she is a Blackfyre, and I was betrothed to Daemon, married to Haegon and then Aenys. One could say that your cousin’s betrothal to Aenys was in fact also a betrothal to me, in some ways.”

 

“One might say that such a connection should be renewed,” Merick agrees.

 

In the end, Rhaenyra goes home with an extra packet of herbs. She slips them into Calla’s wine, and watches her sister drop off to sleep in the window seat of their solar, calm and unmoved despite her awareness that sometimes, when put in wine, the sleep that herb mix causes may be permanent. She is far more worried that her daughter be bundled up against the cool winds off the sea as they slip out of a side door to meet Merick Seastone for the trip north.

 

<><><>

  


Rhaenyra looks every inch the Targaryen princess, in a way Daenora never could with her dark hair and her skin that tans dark enough to show the Dornish in her blood. Except for one thing - the Blackfyres’ Dowager Queen has eyes that are bright green, rather than the purple Valyrian eyes that Daenora herself can boast. But Rhaenyra’s hair is silver-gold and her skin pale, and her daughter looks just the same, her wide eyes a pale amethyst shade.

  


For a moment Daenora imagines what the three of them would have looked like together, had Aenys’ plan succeeded. The pair of them flanking Aenys, dragon banners overhead, red and black quartered together. But she pushes the image aside, instead forcing herself to imagine her little Rion as a man grown, crowned in the Red Keep with this pretty girl a woman and his Queen beside him.

  
  


She does think quartered red and black dragons would look very well, however. And she is glad that by the time the children are grown, it is likely that they will face Aegon’s Duncan and his Baratheon wife. She thinks she will enjoy watching the Baratheons’ discomfiture, after the way Lord Lyonel had watched her son. Oh yes, she knows what had been in his mind. The more she thinks on it, the more convinced she is that he would have murdered her boy to see his future grandson on the Iron Throne.

  
  


The children are understandably shy together, but Daenora and Rhaenyra leave them in the garden to become used to each other, Rion’s nursemaid to watch over them. She is a local, a dedicant at the Temple of the Winged Lady in the center of town. Daenora does not care for this goddess, and insists upon her son attending the weekly religious class for children at Lorath’s Clifftop Sept, but Merick insists that he _must_ know the faith that is so important to most of the Lorathi or he will never blend in.

  


She takes a seat at her table and pours them both tall glasses of the mint tisane drunk so often here - almost as often as their mead. “So, I think it is safe to assume you are here to renew the alliance I was to make with you and your brother? I offer my condolences on his loss - I feel partly to blame for it,” she admits.

  


“I do not blame you, that would be foolish. Aenys would have done it anyway, I think, and it was Bloodraven who offered safe conduct as a trick,” Rhaenyra says easily. “I’m told that even Aegon the peasant prince, who benefitted most by it, considered it too underhanded a trick and shipped Bloodraven off to the Wall. Now if only someone could do that to my Uncle Aegor, things might get less bloody for us all.”

  


Daenora smiles thinly. “My cousin Daeron once said that it was as though the Targaryens and the Blackfyres were just game pieces in Bloodraven and Bittersteel’s personal war games. I thought it was another of his drunken rambles, but maybe he was right.”

  


“I don’t think there’s any maybe about it. Aegor almost never spoke of the Targaryens, he spoke only of Bloodraven. I think our plan is better. Unite Blackfyre to Targaryen and be patient,” Rhaenyra says, her eyes distant as if she is no longer seeing the room but remembering a childhood dominated by Bittersteel. Daenora remembers something similar, remembers coming of age with a gently mad father, a viciously insane betrothed, and Uncle Aerys on the throne, lost in books while Bloodraven ruled as a suspicious tyrant.

  


If nothing else, she reflects, they can at least do better for their children than _that_. And while their odds of having resources to make war are not good, who says they need to make war? Look what happened to Uncle Baelor and his sons, look what happened in the Dance of the Dragons. Something will happen, she is sure of that. Something will come that decimates the Targaryen bloodline, and the Blackfyres will either destroy themselves trying for the throne or give up and settle into life as an Essosi family.

  


And when an opening comes, there they shall be, the heirs of this joint bloodline that she and Rhaenyra will create through their children. It is worth the trying, at any rate. They can’t possibly do any worse than they have done already.


End file.
